June 3, 2010

• Food Porn Entry of the Whatever: Nuts On Your Chest

  Title is from an old, bad joke.  If you don't know it, that's probably for the best.

  So, before I get to the recipe, I'm behind on everything.  So many losses (Rue, Dennis, Lena, Gary, to name but a few).  I like to do individual obits for each person individually, but, honestly, if I did, this blog would be much more morbid than I'm inclined to be.  I'm not 100% certain why I bother anyway.  There tends to be ample mourning and recognition, it's not like I'm adding anything.  And I don't know them personally.  But . . . I suppose it's one of those ways to mark down all the things in my head, people and events that I treasure that I don't want to forget. 

  Some of us have long memories, but things still get lost in the cracks unless you're in possession of eidetic memory with seriously long-term memory storage.  Mine's good, but increasingly selective as I get older.  As a species, we're made to forget.  I recall to mind the idea that women "forget" the pain of childbirth, but that doesn't seem right to me, quite.  Not being an actual woman, I wouldn't dare speak for any, but I wonder if it's forgetfulness or a papering-over of memory:  the ability to reduce things and enhance others in hindsight.  (Women, I'm not sure what to make of this study, but it's interesting, at least to a man who will never experience delivery). 

  And we don't ever "forget" we're all going to die one day (and we can't really forget something that hasn't happened), but we paper over the knowledge.  We put things between it and our consciousness.  There's a reason that Lethe is perceived as both a gift and a curse at various points in mythology.  And thank you, Wikipedia, for informing me that "Lethe" is related to the Greek word for "truth" aletheia:  "Unconcealed."  "Un-oblivion."

  There's probably something more deep there that if I attempt to get at would only embarrass me, so let's forget I mentioned it.

  Heh.

  So . . . recipe that I'm terribly pleased with/proud of.  It's an amalgamation of some ideas on Epicurious.  I may have previously mentioned my moth-to-the-flame fascination with chestnuts, a perfectly lovely nut that most people forget existed from January to October, after which, is recalled as the stuff of stuffing and Christmas songs.   In the past, during those times, when I can get them fresh at Rainbow, I've attempted to prepare them, and wound up with squat.  They are a pain to peel.  They crumble.  The peel reluctantly comes off.  The shells are tough and prick your fingers with every sad attempt at separating them from the tasty treat inside.  They break my heart every year I try to use them, because the one (out of 30) that I do get properly peeled and prepared are heavenly.  The rest is just a crumbled, skin-laden, shell-mined mess.

  If you haven't actually had chestnuts (and I really didn't see them in Florida much), they're sweet and savory at the same time, possessing more actual starch than potatoes, with a bit more fiber and a good amount of vitamin C.  Earthy and caramelly, they're firm and soft at the same time, and they have a lot of body.

  A few weeks ago at Rainbow, in the soups and canned/jarred goods section, I saw a 14.3 oz jar of Minerve whole roasted chestnuts (Ooo! Press!) on sale.  14.3 ounces! And they all looked gorgeous, and whole, and, sadly, better than any attempt I'd made at preparing them at home.

  Along with this find, I'm on a soup kick (again).  So I decided to look at some soup recipes, and I found elements in several that I liked.  So I put them all together, gave it a try, broke out the immersion blender Z-man got me, and, well, I have a new instant favorite that seems also to be popular with other folks.  It's delicious, hearty, and easy, if you can find the damn chestnuts.

  Chestnut Soup with Fennel, Pine Nuts, and Absinthe

  1 14.3 oz jar of whole roasted (and peeled) chestnuts
  1 medium-to-large bulb fennel (or anise), loosely chopped, stems and bottom removed *
  3 tbsp butter and/or olive oil (or any combination totalling 2 tbsp) **
  6-8 cups vegetable stock ***
  6 whole star anise pods
  1/4 cup absinthe (or anisette)
  1/4 cup pine nuts, freshly toasted, for garnish
  S & P to taste

  1.  Bring the vegetable stock and anise pods to a boil, then let simmer for 45 minutes on very low heat.

  2.  At about the 30 minute mark for the stock, and in a separate large soup pot, melt the butter or heat up the olive oil over medium-high heat.  Add the chopped fennel bulb and sautée for 5 minutes. 

  3.  Add the chestnuts and sautée for another 8 minutes, mixing well with the fennel.  The pot will get sticky and the fennel may be blackening a little.  This is fine because . . .

  4. When the pot is sticky, dilute the absinthe with about 1/2 cup cold water.  The absinthe will cloud (as it is wont to do) and deglaze the pan with the absinthe/water.  You might have a little dense liquid left over in the pan after you deglaze the pan clean, and that's fine.

  5.  Through a sieve to capture the star anise, pour the stock into the soup pot and bring to a boil once more.  Reserve the star anise.

  6.  After the soup boils, cover and let simmer for 20-30 minutes, or until the chestnuts are basically falling apart in the broth.. 

  7. Purée the soup in a blender, food processor, or (strongly preferred) an immersion blender -- and be careful!

  8.  Check the soup for desired thickness, and if you want it a bit thicker, it can go another 10 minutes or so uncovered.  You can likewise thin it out, too, with a bit more stock/broth/water, if you want.  Add salt to taste at this point too.

  9. Serve in a bowl or mug, and sprinkle the pine nuts on top. Have a pepper grinder on hand for fresh-ground pepper to taste.

  * - Fennel or anise is fine, whichever you prefer.  I don't core the fennel, because I like the tender core of fresh bulb, and you're blending it anyway. 
  ** - You can make the soup totally vegan, i.e. olive oil only, if you want.  I use a little of each for myself, since I like butter-sautéed fennel
  *** - These days, I'm still making my own stock, but in a pinch, I once had to use a fake beef broth cube to make up the difference of missing stock, when I didn't have enough on hand.  It comes out just fine.

  • 7:56 pm
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